


The Butterfly Effect

by JustAnotherVanDerLinde



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate universe - New Main Character (OFC), Arthur Whump, Arthur might have Tuberculosis, Butterfly Effect, Chapter 1 and 2 are my "Prologue" chapters, F/M, Fix-It, Fix-It of Sorts, Follows the game plot... sorta, Fuck the Pinkertons, High Honor Arthur Morgan, How is that not a tag, Hurt Arthur Morgan, I accidentally made myself like Molly, I might have made some shit worse, Mary-Beth is a sweet-pea, Miss. Grimshaw can be nice, Modern girl goes back in time fic, Re-writing chapter 3 to be 3rd POV, Sassy Arthur Morgan, Slow Burn, Starts at Blackwater, There will be Spoilers!, There's time travel, adding tags as I go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-28
Updated: 2019-09-11
Packaged: 2020-09-28 07:29:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20422223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustAnotherVanDerLinde/pseuds/JustAnotherVanDerLinde
Summary: One single moment. That's all that defines one universe from another. A single moment, where one small thing is different. A word said, an action taken...It's 1899, and the Butterfly Effect has struck. Chaos, is now in motion.Follow the story of the great van der Linde gang where the events of Blackwater weren't quiet as awful as you know them to be, and get to know a woman they recruit. A woman who shouldn't even be alive.Expect, the unexpected; Everything could change... or nothing at all.//~I'm currently open for prompts and requests on Tumblr ;3;justanothervanderlinde.tumblr.com





	1. Prologue: The wrong place, at the wrong time

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first uploaded fanfiction but I've been writing them for years I swear ;3;  
As you can tell by the tags this is going to be a bumpy ride but I hope you all enjoy it with me!  
I've made as few changes to the lore as possible, and will be making notes of them through the chapters as I remember them/add them <3  
Feel free to let me know what you think, and if you have any input! All is welcome o3o

Dutch had a plan. He _always_ had a plan. And if it didn’t pan out how he expected, he fixed whatever needed fixing, and moved onto the next one. This… This was one of the plans that was going to end with a lot of fixing. When he and the boys rode into Blackwater that night, nothing could have told or even hinted them that it was going to end in blood and fire. The air was clear, the water still. The people that lived their going about the last of their daily chores and heading home, or, in some cases, had just started drinking. In either case, everything was calm. 

And then the shooting started.

There wasn’t _supposed_ to be shooting. The plan was to be stealthy. Quiet. In and out before anyone was any wiser. Before the law rode in. But someone had fired a shot. One shot and the whole town was in chaos. The law was _everywhere_. Around every corner, on every rooftop. They were armed to the damn teeth and had the van der Linde gang on the edge of town. The only brightside, which Javier pointed out, was that they were pinned_ after_ hiding the $150,000 they had stolen from the ferry. Still, the situation boiled Dutch’s blood. The plan had been _perfect_. The second he finds out who had fucked it up…

“So we’re shooting now?” Micah, the new recruit, drawled from his cover by a shop wall. Across the street, Dutch growled, gun already out and ready at his side. He yells over the shooting between his men and the Pinkertons with his iconic hitching tone.

“_Apparently._”

The battle was long, bloody and _brutal_. All rules were forgotten, any code the gang had at the bottom of the river along with the ferry. The Callander’s were blowing off heads, Javier was slicing up anyone who dared to get close, and Bill was lobbing Molotov’s left, right and center. What, a damn, mess. But Dutch didn’t judge for a single damn second. Because these boys were keeping each other alive, and right now that’s all that mattered to any of them.

“We need to move!” Bill yells, retreating from the fire he’d started and was raging in _every_ direction; Including theirs. Micah cackled as he turned to run, reloading his gun.

“Really? Why’s that?” He snipped with a nasty glare thrown Bill’s way as he ambled towards Dutch. Firing a shot here and there along with the rest of them as they reverse a few steps down the street. Going deeper into the dead end.

“Where to Dutch?” John asks from behind an upturned wagon with Sean right next to him. Dutch looks at John, then over all his boys as they crouch in various places of cover. His mind races as his eyes flick between them, before he closes them and _thinks_. They needed to get out and quickly. Before more Pinkertons showed up. Before the fire ate them alive. God how he wished Hosea was here. Hosea would criticize this whole thing up and down, would yell at Dutch about how he had known this was a bad idea… but at least he’d follow up with his ever useful and wise advice.

Dutch opens his eyes and looks around them, eyes locking on the alley his brain had supplied.

“Follow me, all of you!”

He runs, but every few meters he stops to make sure his boys were with him. That they were safe. God forbid he lost any because someone was _trigger happy_.

It didn’t matter how often Dutch stopped. Didn’t matter how loud he yelled or how many bullets he shot. His boys weren’t ever going to be safe. Three of them had bullets in them. John, Davey and Mac. But Mac had fallen, his wounds having gotten the better of him. Sean… Dutch isn’t sure when they’d lost him.

“Do you reckon we could make it to the horses?” Javier asks over the shooting and cursing, the gang members standing back to back as they fired. The Pinkertons once against surrounding them, shooting at them from either end of the alley.

“_You might._” Davey spits, his hand pressing hard into his stomach despite the agony it caused. He’d rather that than spill his guts all over the road.

“We aren’t leaving anyone else behind.” Dutch snarls, taking a moment to squeeze Davey’s shoulder with a hard hand. They both knew it in a different situation it would have been softer and comforting. As it was intended to be.

Dutch thins his lips in thought then, once more bringing up a mental map of the town behind his eyes as he takes cover to scheme.

“One last push, and I think we can.” He confirms, giving a sharp nod towards the Mexican and returning to the fight. “Bill, take Davey. _Davey_, no complaining.” Dutch snaps before Davey can protest. He grumbles and spits out another slop of blood, but hooks his free arm over Bill’s shoulder while the taller man continues to shoot. “John, you going to be-”

“I can manage.” John buts in, his face stern as he fires his shotgun but his tone as soft as it can be. Dutch nods, appreciating every little thing his boys are doing to try and make this easier on him.

“We’ll _all_ manage.” Dutch assures them, looking each of his sons and brothers over one last time before returning to the shooting.

Dutch was a wild force to be reckoned with at best of times. But when Davey stumbles for the third time, and John starts to limp from another shot… Dutch scares even his own men. His eyes are frantic, his skin now sweating from more than just the fire, and his throat is constricted so much that only hoarse growls left his lips. He was ruthless, desperate, to keep his boys safe. So much that when a bold Pinkerton tried to grab a lagging John, Dutch tackled him without second thought and shot him under the chin. He stumbles backwards, patting a shocked but grateful John as he goes and making a point to ignore Micah on his other side. Grinning like a mad hound. 

“Come on boys, time to seriously move!” He yells a few yards down the street, practically throwing John across the next road because he was taking _far too damn long_. John grunts and winces but doesn’t yell at Dutch that he could handle himself. Even he knows better than to fight back this side of Dutch, and that Dutch only threw him to ensure he didn’t get left behind in the open. Which can be confirmed when he looks back, Dutch now waiting for everyone to cross into the next alley before he follows from behind. Leading like a true alpha wolf, from the back of the pack.

Between John and Dutch, Bill and Davey hobble along as best they can with the state Davey is in; Javier not far behind them. Somehow, he’s only gotten a few cuts and grazes so far. 

“…The hell does he think we’re doing?” Davey has the balls to weakly joke towards John. For a moment, all John can do is wheeze a small laugh as he hesitantly steps out into the open courtyard the horses stood. 

“’dunno bout you but I’m going for a casual stroll through town.” John jokes back, slinging his shotgun onto his shoulder and pulling out his pistol. He wasn’t going to even _try_ and shoot his shotgun while riding; As much damage as it guaranteed to his enemies. Davey laughs until he starts coughing up splatters of blood.

“_For the love of God boys!_” Dutch yells as he trails after their damaged group, resisting the urge to clip the backs of both their heads then and there. “This is _not_ the time for jokes!” He adds with an incredulous yell, storming towards his horse, the Count. The albino Arabian, unlike all the other horses, stood calm. Pissed off from all the shooting, but relatively still in comparison to the others. Such as Boaz, Javier’s horse, which is bucking and neighing wildly.

“Easy boy!” Javier yells as he clambers onto the painted grey stallion. “I know, I want out too!” He mutters, frantically grasping for the reigns.

Dutch is just getting up into the Count’s saddle when he hears yelling from the streets. The reinforcements were coming.

“Let’s go, come on!” He yells, his loud and broken voice aimed at Davey as he argues with Bill about the seating arrangements. _Of all fucking things_.

“**JUST GET ON DAVEY.**” Bill hollers at the injured man, his hand snatching Davey by the bicep and yanking him up into the saddle. Dutch sighs and turns his horse, about to lead them all to safety when-

“**DUTCH, LOOK OUT.**”

It was Micah.

Dutch’s heart _lurched _in his chest, his breath caught in his throat, and he immediately snapped his head to see where Micah was pointing. When he recognizes Micah’s finger to be jabbing back at the streets his gun hand pulls his pistol out of its holster and swings it around.

He shot through the dirt clouds they and the spooked horses had kicked up before he even saw what or who he was shooting at.

The scream that follows… wasn’t the familiar yelp of a man. It was a shocked and agonizing shriek of a woman.

The high pitch sound chills Dutch’s boiling blood so harsh and so quick, he’s frozen to the spot. All of them had stopped what they were doing, completely speechless. Even Micah. At least. For a moment.

“Aw hell.” He had the audacity to whine. Thankfully, Dutch didn’t hear nor see him. His ears and eyes locked on the poor girl that had slammed backwards onto the dirt road, helplessly whimpering and shaking. He’s not sure when he lowered his gun or dismounted, but he’s sure as hell certain she’ll die from the hole his bullet had pierced through her shoulder.

While Micah had been disappointed for selfish reasons, John and Javier’s reactions were far from it. Christ, their reactions were laced with shock and concern. Bill too, though Davey seemed unphased. It was likely due to his nature, but it could also be put to the blood loss.

Dutch blinks as he slowly approaches the girl on the floor, the looming danger forgotten by all except a fidgeting Micah. The woman, was young. Perhaps in her early to mid-twenties, and dressed in barely anything. A short dress showing off far too much skin with a jacket openly hugging her curvy frame. Both items of clothing are strange and dark, too dark to show the blood she’s losing, unlike the pale dirt road.

Dutch takes another step closer, completely ignoring Micah’s protests and warnings, and the girl slowly shimmies back. She gasps and weeps from the pain that the movement caused, but continued to retreat until her back met a wall. There was no way she could have seen him through the dirt cloud when he fired at her, but it didn’t take much to put two and two together. She knew it was him that had put the hole in her burning shoulder.

Dutch raised both hands as he squats across from the young woman, Micah now shooting at the law coming from down the street. “_DUTCH._” It doesn’t pull Dutch from his empty mind fully, but it damn well gets the attention of the other boys. They all turn their horses towards the Pinkertons so they can shoot alongside the blonde outlaw.

“I’m so sorry miss.” The great van der Linde coos to the innocent civilian he shot, his hands empty and outstretched before him. Trying to calm her down. “I. I didn’t see you.” He stutters as he tries to explain to both her and his troubled soul how this could have happened. How he could have shot her.

“Oh what does it matter Dutch, _let’s go!_”

Dutch refrained from snarling at Micah purely for the woman’s sake.

“There’s too many closing in for this chit chat to go on, we gotta _move_.”

Unlike most in the gang, Dutch wasn’t all that against Micah being right, or in general. But right now? The man’s lack of compassion and respect infuriated him to no end. He snaps his head back to growl the man back down to where he belonged, when he saw the Pinkertons taking cover not a few meters down the road.

“_Fuck._” He curses, quickly turning back to the woman slumped against the wall. She’s nearly white and her once wide eyes are now hooded.

“I. God. _Forgive me._” He begs of her, his warm and rough hand reaching out and squeezing hers. He hopes to god he’s just imagining that she’s already this cold.

Behind him, John watches on in confused horror.

“Dutch, what in the hell!?”

John blinked. His mouth had opened, but that wasn’t his voice. Fucking. Micah.

“_Shut up and keep shooting!_” Dutch howled, even though he had a woman’s ears close to his lips. The poor civilian he shot, now pressed into his chest as he carried her to his horse.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!?” Micah yells, looking to Bill for support. He’s offered none. Bill was just as dumbstruck as John.

“_No, I mean it. Shut the fuck up!_” With that, the frantic gang leader kicks his horse to life. The Count snarling as best as his muzzle can allow, not appreciating the sudden aggressive nature of his rider, before he’s charging away from Blackwater. Dutch’s boys follow as close as they can for as long as they can until they all have to split up; As they always did when they were being chased by the law.

Dutch rides long and hard over the dirt hills of New Austin, his chest cold from the blood that soaks his vest and shirt. His stomach drops when he peeks down at the mess in his lap, but he shakes his head and gathers his composure. He owed the woman at least some sort of effort towards comforting her. As such, Dutch forced his rock hard form, including his arm that holds her to his chest, to soften. Forced the hand cupping her arm to idly brush up and down her unbelievably soft skin.

“H-Hold on miss, you’re going to be alright.” He tells her, knowing full well, with a sickening lurch from his gut, that it was just as much for himself as it was for her. She couldn’t die. Not something so innocent, so beautiful, because of _him_.

Not because Dutch van der Linde had been _scared_.


	2. Prologue: Fear and Doubts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone is worried, but most of all Dutch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I figured ya'll would rather a small chapter soon rather than along chapter in a few days ;3;  
I can't stress enough how pleasantly surprised I am to get so many hits and kudos already! Thank you all so much ;o;
> 
> This chapter and chapter one are in third person and are rather short. But this is by design because these are my prologue chapters that are here to both tease and set everything up somewhat nicely I hope xD  
Lastly, anyone out there wanna be a beta!reader? o3o' You'll see each new chapter before upload obviously, but won't get to see the overall plot I'm afraid <3

“Dutch, you haven’t slept in three days. Lay down with me.”

Dutch didn’t need reminding, but he doesn’t snip at Molly as she smooths a hand over his shoulder. Nor when she gently tries to pull him down onto the mattress behind him. He just sighs and runs a hand over his face before succumbing to the request of his woman. His body is immediately grateful, his sore limbs slacking, becoming one with the bed.

A long, weary sigh leaves his nose then, as he lets his head roll back into his pillow. The moment he’s stopped moving, Molly snuggles up to him. Dutch breathes a small chuckle as she nuzzled into his chest, and instinctively brought his arm around her. He wore just as much clothes as she, but she had been by the fire while he was out riding with Arthur and Micah. Thus, more than her familiar weight was welcomed at his side. The thought brought him back to the weather outside, the weather he and his two boys had to traverse on their way back from poor Mrs. Adler’s blazing home.

God, what a rough couple of weeks.

“Dutch.” Molly suddenly warns from under his chin, her arm giving his middle a gentle squeeze. She didn’t know him as well as Miss Grimshaw, Arthur, or Hosea… but she knew him well enough to know when his mind was clunking and turning. It brought the smallest of smiles to his face.

“I’m trying.” He promises her with a whisper, gently squeezing her back.

He pulls the blankets around her a little better, before letting his eyes close. He tries harder to let it all go. Even if only for a few hours. But it doesn’t help. The last few weeks wouldn’t leave him alone.

Not that he’s surprised. He, nor the group, had endured something quite like this in years.

He sighs again, his free hand coming up to rub his forehead and brow.

“Just, don’t be too long.” Molly hums, her voice low and heavy. Dutch’s small smile is back as he kisses the top of her head.

“I never am.” Is his returning hum, before he sucks in and exhales a long breath.

Looking back was harder than Dutch thought it would be, given how it plagued his mind. But as he lay in bed, everything between here and Blackwater was a horrible, bloody blur. He vaguely remembers the flight back to camp with the poor girl in his arms and the looks of horror from everyone in camp. They’d stopped their packing to stare until Miss Grimshaw had howled them back into action. He’d thanked Charles for keeping an eye on the town, hence the gang knowing to pack, and then they were on the road. Charles, bless his soul, rode off to fetch Hosea and Arthur, but everyone else had remained to defend the wagons. No one had been without a gun.

It hadn’t been enough.

Jenny had gotten shot. Died a week ago now.

Still didn’t feel real that she, nor any of the others, were gone.

Dutch supposed it didn’t help they hadn’t lost anyone in so goddamn long.

Dutch had somewhat explained what had transpired in Blackwater and who the girl was shortly before Jenny has passed. He had been right to suspect his explanation wouldn’t satisfy anyone, especially not in the long run. But at least they treated his injured girl better once he had implored them to on his behalf; As he was too busy keeping the rest of them safe to do so.

The girl’s presence and the task of caring for her, was oddly the easiest transition the gang underwent. Not that Dutch was complaining… but he knew what that meant for him and his actions. The second they were somewhere safe, he would be scrutinized.

This impending future only made his determination to show them he was still their caring leader and father figure stronger, hence the lack of rest. He’d gone the extra mile at every turn, given a speech every damn day, and found himself doing even the tasks of the minorities. Anything to keep himself in everyone’s good graces.

Still, Dutch knew it wouldn’t be enough.

Some had already caught onto what he was doing. Hosea was first. He’d pulled him aside a few days in to try and comfort him. Micah was next, lip pulled into a disapproving snarl. Then Miss. Grimshaw. Who recently had the nerve to ask him if he only saved Mrs. Adler in hopes that it would redeem him somehow. He had been so offended, he didn’t even have to open his mouth for Miss. Grimshaw to quickly apologize.

Had Dutch really fallen that far in their graces?

~~

The following morning, Dutch sits with Hosea and Arthur by the fire in the small cabin he shared with them and his sweet Molly. He can barely hear his old friend and son over the howls of the snowstorm outside, but after straining to hear them for a good half hour, he wishes he couldn’t have heard him at all. Hosea sounded so _doubtful_.

Arthur of course, had his back every time he looked his way or asked him what he thought, despite the million questions Dutch knew the boy had.

“I don’t know what happened down there on that boat Dutch, but I know there was a lot of shooting. Davey’s insides were being held in more by his own hands then the skin on his belly, and don’t get me started on our boy John.” Hosea grumbles, turning from the fire to glare at his gang brother. Dutch swallows, hard, wondering if there’s any use in lying to Hosea at this point. He often did, either to calm the older man or to get his way, but it was highly unlikely either would be possible.

“The plan fell apart, _but we’re safe Hosea. _We just. We just need to get some money, old or new, and head west.” He explains now facing Hosea and gesturing wildly with his hands.

“But we’re heading _east_.” Hosea argues, his fact obvious but valid.

Words fail Dutch as he tries to reply, and he blanches. Seemingly admitting defeat as he turns from Hosea and back to the fire. His dark and sad eyes peek over the fur of his coat after a moment silence, sneaking a look at his quiet and troubled son. 

“For now.” He admits, suddenly looking a lot smaller in his said giant black fur coat.

It’s then, that something seems to dawn upon Hosea, and he sighs in regret.

“I don’t mean to yell or snap. I’m just worried.” He mumbles, giving Dutch a glance to match his words as he leans forward on his knees. Dutch offers him a small smile and a nod.

“Why do you think I let you off so easy?” He lightly teases, giving Hosea a small nudge with his elbow. Hosea snorts before something dislodged in his lungs and he’s coughing a small fit.

“Damn cold.” He huffs, stretching his hands closer to the fire.

“Say, why ain’t Molly out here keeping warm?” Arthur inquires out of the blue, returning to the conversation now the waters were safe. Dutch blinked and began to wonder the exact same thing when the front door suddenly burst open.

“Dutch!”

Their exhausted leader was on his feet instantly.

“Mary-Beth, was it is child?” He asks, scooting around and between the chairs by the fire to approach her, his face and tone concerned to say the least. She was absolutely coated in snow and lightly shivering.

“She. She’s awake.” She beamed with rosy cheeks, her bright eyes darting between all three men.

It takes Dutch’s depleted mind a moment to realize just who ‘she’ was.

Then, he’s out the door like a bat out of hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had no idea that if you hung around in Colter before doing missions you could hear and talk to Dutch and Hosea. Their chat was inspired by that canon conversation <3


	3. Chapter One: I haven't had a bath in years

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The woman Dutch shot wakes up and the girls tend to her disheveled state.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope ya'll are feeling spoiled with two chapters in one day xD  
I really didn't want to work on a uni assignment, so I thought I'd get this chapter written while the ideas for it were still fresh in my mind.  
Once again thank you all for the hits and kudos ;o; You have no idea what it means to think ya'll are enjoying this ride with me <3

The first thing I remember when my eyes blink open, is that I was shot. In all my life I had never gotten more than a few cuts and bruises. I haven’t broken a single bone in my body, but… the other day? Last week, month, year?

I was _shot_. Shot, while walking back to my apartment after work. Why or who by, I don’t know. Or at least, can’t remember.

This isn’t the first time I’ve woken up since being shot. But it’s the first time I see something that ain’t a blurry blob which I could only assume was another human being. She’s beautiful whoever she is, and for whatever reason, she looks so happy to see me looking back up at her.

“_Susan, she’s awake!_” She cries, her eyes bright and cheeks rosy as she turns away from me. Towards where I’m guessing Susan was. I try to look, but in doing so, pain registers up and down my body. It’s nothing like the fire that had seared my shoulder that night, but rather a dull throb. Similar to the kind when you’ve overslept and you’re sore from not moving in a long…

_Oh._

“Oh for god’s sake Mary-Beth, she’s opened her eyes plenty these last few days. Would you please-”

“But she looked _right at me_.”

“**Mary-Beth.**”

Whoever this Susan was, she sounded old and incredibly tired. Both in general and with the woman by my bed. Mary-Beth, however seemed right as rain, even after having her spirit stamped on a little bit.

She turns to me a little while after the scolding, then slowly sits by my legs and takes my hand in hers.

I groan at the ache from my stiff joints moving.

“Sorry.” Mary-Beth smiles, stroking my hand with hers.

“_S’fine._” I croak with what sounds like a throat that smokes 30 a day.

The reaction is _loud_ and _instantaneous._

And I can’t make sense of _any of it_.

All I know is that there were _definitely_ more than just the two people I had names for in the room with me. Most of which were women, but here and there I heard masculine voices. One of which sounded very young. But until Susan is yelling over everyone, I just blink and try to take in my surroundings.

This sure as hell didn’t look like Blackwater to me.

“Hello dearie.” Susan coos, blocking the run-down grey cabin from view. As well as all the curious people behind her. She has a genuine, and sure enough tired, smile on her painted lips as she moves to sit where Mary-Beth had been.

“_Hey._” Is all I can manage. It seems to be enough for Susan though, who gives my exposed hand a reassuring pat.

“Good to hear you talking, but you rest that throat until we get you some water. Tilly?”

“On it Miss. Grimshaw.”

I blink and peek around Susan? Miss. Grimshaw? Whoever she is. And spot a dark-colored girl getting a camping mug and filling it with water. Alright, another name for another face.

“Where-?”

“**Ah-ah-a**.” Miss. Grimshaw lightly scolds with a waggling finger, taking the mug from Tilly with a small thank you before shuffling closer to me. “Nod or shake your head. Can you sit up?”

I eye Miss. Grimshaw and then the two sweet smiling girls, before I slowly nod.

I mean, I _think_ I can sit up at least.

“Alright, Mary-Beth, why don’t you-” Miss. Grimshaw gestures to me as she rises from the bed, and Mary-Beth quickly reaches for my waist. She has absolutely no problem gently pulling me up into the pillows behind me that Miss. Grimshaw kindly rearranged, even though I’m sure my hair is matted and I smell awful.

Whoever these people where, they were kind souls. The likes I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting in years.

After I’ve gotten comfy Miss. Grimshaw is sat with me again, helping me take a sip from the metal mug. I groan as the water hits the back of my throat, soothing it already.

“Take it easy now.” Miss. Grimshaw warns softly, controlling how quickly I can drink. I don’t complain. How could I when they’ve obviously been taking care of me for however long? 

God I was desperate to know where I was and how long I’d been out.

But more importantly, I wanted to know why the hell everyone was _dressed so damn weird_.

Was I in some religious camp or something that lived in the old times?

“How’s that?” Miss. Grimshaw smiles as she pulls the empty mug away. I lick my lips and give her the best smile I can while feeling like absolute crap.

“Much better.” I hum. The croak and pain is still there but it truly is an improvement to what it was. “Thank you.”

“It’s quite alright.” Miss. Grimshaw chuckles softly, setting the mug down. She peaks back to all the people in the room, and must have given them quite the look because suddenly they all scamper to “busy themselves”.

“So, you know my name, but we don’t know yours.” My guardian notes, looking me over with narrowed eyes. Her demeanor is still open and kind however, so I do my best not to panic or feel scrutinized.

“Claire.” I swallow, before the cold shakes my body into a vicious shiver.

“Hmmm, how about a warm bath before we go further Claire?” Miss. Grimshaw asks, slightly tilting her head at me.

“That’d be lovely.” I reply honestly, but my voice trails as I look to all the other people in the cabin who still sneak glances my way.

“You have nothing to fear with us Claire.” Miss. Grimshaw smiles, bringing me back to her.

I don’t know if its her tone of voice, the soft look in her eye, or how she says my name… but I find it in me to relax. Miss. Grimshaw’s smile brightens a little and she rises to her feet, beckoning Mary-Beth and Tilly over.

“I trust you two can heat up some water for her?”

“Wait what? No no, I. Nevermind, it’s alright!” I object, suddenly realizing that these people _really_ lived in the old times. Pre gas-heated water old times. _Christ_.

“It won’t take long, and we don’t mind.” Mary-Beth smiles, and sure enough Tilly, while less enthusiastic, is giving me an agreeing nod.

Well I never.

“O-Okay.” I blink, completely dumbfounded as I watch them go to grab two buckets and start fetching water. From where in this weather, I have no idea.

Or maybe they’re going to grab some snow.

I groan at the idea of two girls digging up snow to make me a bath, my head sagging into the pillow behind me.

“I’m afraid we haven’t got much for the pain. We’ve used up most of our supplies-”

“Oh my god no, I, I’m _fine._” I stress, going as far as digging my other arm out of the blankets to shake my hands at her. Miss. Grimshaw’s eyes narrow on me and her lips thin, but she just hums and goes back to sitting next to me.

She’s quiet after that, the pair of us just watching Tilly and Mary-Beth (as I expected) haul snow from outside and into the tub in the next room.

“You can ask me more questions if you like.” I offer, because answers are the least I can offer in exchange for tending to me after I got shot. God, that still didn’t feel real. Hence why I kept shaking it out of my head.

Miss. Grimshaw hums in thought, patting down her skirt, before shaking her head.

“I’ll leave that to Dutch and Hosea… They run out little community.” She explains after a beat, and my theory on this being a religious group just got thicker. It didn’t help some old man on the other end of the cabin was reading the bible out loud but seemingly to himself.

“Oh, okay.” I reply, fiddling with the blankets.

“Would you, like to ask me anything?” Miss. Grimshaw asks, tilting her head to peek at me. I thin my lips in thought, not wondering if I had anything to ask her, but rather, which one to ask first.

~~

By the time the snow that was to be my bath was hot water, Miss. Grimshaw had enlightened me on as much as she was allowed to when it came to her family. That, was the first thing she made _very_ clear to me about her community. That they were a family. All of them. Some were “bound” by blood and marriage, but those that weren’t were bound by love and loyalty. And honestly, it sounded too beautiful to be true. But as Miss. Grimshaw sang her pretty song, some bold voices had joined in from the shadows. Heartedly agreeing here and there. Including the priest who had gone as far to put his book down.

After that I found out this family was over 15 people strong. One of the 15, being a little boy I had somewhat accurately pinpointed earlier, back when I had foolishly spoken out before I was ready.

The most prominent thing about the family after their size, was their diversity. There were all sorts of ages as well as ethnicities. As for what they all did for a living, Miss. Grimshaw wouldn’t say. But when I had discreetly asked if they were a religious body, she had very loudly snorted and cackled.

“_We’re anything but my dear_.” She had laughed as she helped me hobble towards the bathroom.

I just chuckled with her, trying not to frown at the strange clothes I had been put into.

A white, hand-sewn union suit.

“Where did this…” I begin, tugging a little at one of the sleaves.

“Oh, I made that for you on the first few days traveling up here.” Miss. Grimshaw proclaimed, testing the water in the tub. I eye the material, completely lost on why on Earth she would do any of this for me. Only my own mother would have been this kind. She’d died when I was on my way out of my teen years, but there isn’t a day that goes by I don’t miss her. Nor my father, who still can’t find it in himself to move on. Not that I blame him or believe I could after loving someone as fiercely as he had.

“Th-Thank you.” I stutter, sniffing down the emotions my memories had brought to surface. Miss. Grimshaw gives me that pitying look again that on anyone else, would have me snarling and snapping at. But not her…

The hell was in that water she gave me?

Wait. Better question.

Had that been snow too?

“It’s no bother, kept my mind off… well. Let’s get you in shall we?” She gestures to the tub and I nervously back away.

“I er, I can manage.” I smile, hugging myself and slowly inching closer to the hot steam the tub is giving off. God my body was already melting at just the idea of being encased in something so warm and comforting as a bath.

“Alright, but call out if you get stuck. I can send in one of the younger ones if that helps.” Miss. Grimshaw hums, already moving to leave.

“That, isn’t… Okay.” I sigh in defeat, shuffling towards the tub as the door opened behind me. It stayed open for longer than I thought so I look back, but when I do all I see is the back of Miss. Grimshaw, and then the door closing. I thin my lips before I start to unbutton the union suit she’d made me. It’s a task and a half given my fingers are stiff and cold, but I get there eventually.

I’m just about to it pull down over my chest when I let out a squawk and fold my arms over my exposed breasts. _Where the hell was my bra?_

My breathing doubles as I dumbly stand there, blinking at the metal tub that looked more horse trough than a bathtub.

I figured Miss. Grimshaw and her girls must have shimmied me into my union suit and therefore seen most of my body naked but… to know they’d completely undressed me?

_Well then_.

At least these people weren’t shy about looking after people I suppose. I’d much rather clean clothes than the same underwear for god only knows how long.

Fuck. I really need to ask how long it’s been since I got shot when I get out.

With one final shake of my head and sigh, I finally slip out of my union suit and dip a foot into the water. This time, the sound that leaves me, is a pleasant moan.

‘Cos shit me this water felt good.

I waste no time in getting the rest of my freezing body into the water, curling up in the middle, away from the metal sides. So I can at least pretend I’m not in a strange metal tub in some run-down cabin in what was likely to be the middle of nowhere. God my boss is going to love this excuse when I finally get hold of a damn phone.

Chances are I’m going to have to walk a long way to even find one but, that was more than fine. I am _more_ than okay with being alive to feel the pain of surviving. Which I probably wouldn't have if they hadn’t taken care of me as they had.

It still boggles my mind the kindness and generosity these people have expressed towards me.

“How you doing in there?”

I blink at the voice, completely rigid in the tub, until I wheeze out a breath. It was just Mary-Beth, the kind, and soft girl from before.

“Water’s so nice I forgot I’m here to scrub.” I laugh nervously, immediately moving my hands to start doing just that.

“We’ve all been there. Sorry there’s no soap or anything, we ran out.” Mary-Beth explains from behind the door, and for a second, I forget she can’t see my dismissive wave. I slap my wet hand to my forehead when I do realize.

“It’s all goods, I’m more than happy with just hot water.” I hum, shifting lower down the tub so I can lean back and wet my hair. Which, to my surprise, isn’t matted as bad as I thought it would be.

I pause as I run my hands through it. Had they… naaaah. They were nice but no one was _that_ nice to strangers.

“That’s good to hear. Well, when you’re ready I’ve got a dress to bring in for you.”

I stop my scrubbing on my hair and look at the door. I shouldn’t be surprised they’re going to dress me like one of them, but I am.

“Oh, er, thank you. Am I okay to call you when I’m back in my union suit?”

“We’ve actually got a clean one of those two.” Mary-Beth laughs softly, and I sag a little in the tub.

“You’re too kind.”

“Just, let me know when you’re decent in a towel.” Mary-Beth says a little after with a voice not quite harsh, but nowhere as soft and easy as before. Like she struggled to speak to me all of a sudden. I frown and sit up.

“Sure thing.”

I’m not sure what to make of any of this, but I don’t get long to dwell on it, because my eyes soon catch the horrible mark on my left shoulder. I do such a goddamn good job at blocking shit from my mind, it takes me a moment to realize what the hell it is.

When it does, my hand shoots out the water to slap across my lips and stop me from crying out.

I never had been good at accepting change or catastrophic events.

“_F-Fuck._” I gasp, forcing myself into the tub, forcing myself to keep moving and not dwell on it. Not now. My shaking hands grab the towel Miss. Grimshaw had left for me and quickly wrap it around my plump frame.

“Y-You can come in.” I stutter, shuffling out of the puddle I’ve already made.

Mary-Beth hesitates until she sees me, then she’s quickly closing the door behind me and brining a blue dress and a new white union suit my way.

“Miss. Grimshaw just let to fetch you a coat.” She explains, settling the dress down so she could approach me with just the union suit.

“Woah now.” I say, using the hand that isn’t holding the towel around my chest to ward her off. She raises both brows in surprise. “I can manage.” I add, giving her a sweet smile a moment after when I realize I had probably been a little rude. She seems entirely unphased.

“You sure? I’d hate for you to hurt yourself after such a long and hard recovery.” She notes, nodding to the stitches in my shoulder and the bruising that has blossomed from my collarbone all the way to the top of my left arm. I swallow and force my smile again.

“Please?”

She eyes my like Miss. Grimshaw had, but not nearly with as much power behind it or for as long.

“You’ll call out?”

“Yeah, ‘course.” I promise, extending my hand for the union suit she holds. She hums, but hands it to me and grabs the old one. “Alright then.” She smiles softly, before leaving me to dress. I sigh in relief and let my body sag. The towel drops to the floor and I eye the union suit. At least they were comfy. More so than most of my underwear come to think of it, but that was because I wore flashy things that could grab anyone’s attention if flashed it at them. But the lack of a bra was surely going to hurt? Unless this dress hand an inbuilt…

I slowly pad over to the dress and poke the middle.

“_Oh goody._” I grumble, sneering in distaste and stalking back to my towel. Which I yank away from the floor.

Of _course_ I have to wear a damning corset. I never once wanted to be a lady of old when I was a girl. No princess Claire’s are in my family photo albums. No sir-ee. Yet here I was. 23 and about to squish my ribs just to cover up my yummy petite waist with a coat. _Joy. _

I doubted there were even any men here to flaunt said waist to. Not that I’d want some “the old times are the best times” man for a boyfriend. I was a modern girl who liked her modern life.

I have to admit though, once again, this union suit felt _good_. I have no clue what it made off but it’s soft and hugs me nicely. Hides my nasty shoulder from view too, which is a definite plus in my book.

“Er, Mary-Beth?” I call, hiding from the gap the door would make when it opened, hugging my arms over my free-hanging breasts.

A second later I hear steps and then Mary-Beth is slipping into the room with me again.

“Look at you.” She smiles sincerely, looking me over more than some of my closets friends have back home have. “That water did you some good.” She adds, grabbing the blue dress and separating the front and the back.

“I definitely feel a lot better for it.” I muse softly, feeling entirely uncertain with how to even start putting the dress on. It was a plain thing, but clean and definitely well looked after. I feel spoiled.

“I’m glad. Now, turn your back to me.”

“Sure, sure.” I say quickly, doing as she said and instinctively raising my arms above my head.

“You do look more comfortable. Or is that because it’s just me and not a dozen people staring at ya?” Mary-Beth lightly teased, gently tugging the dress down my frame. I wheeze a small laugh and let my arms fall to my sides.

“I have to admit, meeting so many new people at once was a bit of a shock to the system.” I smile back at her over my shoulder as she insured the dress sat where it was supposed to on my frame. It hugged my hips like my skinny jeans, and despite not wanting to look like I’m from the eighteen, nineteen hundreds, I’m quite curious to see what I look like dressed up like this. 

“I’ll see if we can be a bit more… gradual with introducing you to everyone then.” Mary-Beth hums as she starts to tie the back of my dress. It doesn’t hurt at all, which takes me by as much surprise as everything else this morning.

“Th-Thank you.” I smile, turning to face her when she’s done.

“Of co- Oh my heavens! We forgot shoes!” Mary-Beth laughed, turning and leaving in a heartbeat. I blink as she disappeared around the corner, leaving the door wide open.

“Erm.” I say, slowly bending to grab my towel and follow her out. I’m scrubbing at my damp hair as I leave the “bathroom”, instantly shuddering as I break the hot air into something ice cold.

“_Good god_.” I curse, dropping the towel by the door to clutch myself.

“Claire!” Miss. Grimshaw exclaims when she sees me, already rushing over with a furry black coat she’d found for me.

“M-Miss. Gri-Grimshaw.” I smile as best as I can with my teeth chattering.

“My dear girl have you never bathed in winter before? You shouldn’t leave the hot room while you’re still damp!” Miss. Grimshaw critiques as she wraps me in the coat and ushers me to the bed to surround me in the blankets once more.

“Mem-Memory s-slipped.” I say, which isn’t an entire lie. I’ve gone without heating in my apartment in winter before because I couldn't afford it.

“Silly girl, now tuck those poor toes in until Mary-Beth gets you some shoes and Tilly finds some socks.”

“G-Gladly.” I muse weakly, but with a daring grin. Miss. Grimshaw just shakes her head and grabs my dark brunette hair to start wringing it to the rotting floorboards bellow us.

“You’ve got some long hair Claire.” She softly hums, an amused glint in her eye as she continued to wring it further and further. I watch her as she does, snorting softly.

“Been meaning to get it cut honestly. Keeps getting in the way… _and it takes years to dry_.”

“_Oh you_.” Miss. Grimshaw scoffed, batting my good arm with a good-humored and light thump from her now ungloved hand. I just grin with a weak chuckle.

She’s squeezed a least a few liters of water from my hair by the time the girls scuttle over with a pair of thick grey socks and a pair of brown leather tie up boots. They’re cute, worn ankle things that I selfishly hope I can keep.

“Thank you ladies.” I smile, taking both and immediately pulling on a sock. Tilly giggles softly before sitting on a nearby chair, Mary-Beth sitting on the next.

“You’re quite welcome Claire.” Tilly smiles, the pair watching me as I slip the other sock on and wiggle my appreciative toes. It unnerves me that everyone is staring at me again, but I push it down like everything else, and get to putting my new boots on.

“So, er. You had more questions for me?” I ask nervously, pushing the blankets off me fully now that I’m a lot warmer than I was.

“_Oh_, I haven’t sent anyone to tell Dutch yet.” Miss. Grimshaw seemed to realize with a great horror, looking around the room frantically.

“I’ll go!” Mary-Beth chimes, surging to her feet as another, much blonder woman, strode over with a familiar confidence.

“Thank god.” The woman muttered with a cheeky smile as she plopped down in Mary-Beth’s chair. “Karen.”

I shake her offered hand. “Claire.”

“Shit you’re nice and warm!” She laughs, refusing to let go of my hand, and all I can do is laugh with her.

“Be careful Mary-Beth!” Miss. Grimshaw yells over us to the young woman by the front door, who just rolls her eyes and leaves with a big smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm awfully sorry my main gal hasn't even met Dutch properly let alone Arthur. I should probably add the slow burn tag now huh xDD  
Next chapter might not be for a few days because this assignment I was supposed to be writing is due in just under a week, woops xD  
Also, without spoiling anything, I plan for Claire to start really interacting with people in the next chapter! o3o  
Who are you most excited for her to chat with? Lemme know and I might give them extra love! >3


	4. A new beginning

* * *

So I spent most of my day scheming, and realized this isn't heading in the direction I want it to. On the plus side this isn't going to be a discontinuation, but a revive/revamp? <3 For those sticking with me I am now going to work on the new version of this story. Expect chapter 1 in the coming days.  
I'm likely going to just update the chapters here accordingly opposed to just starting a new fic and deleting this one xD Comments might look a lil weird but OH WELL.  
Love ya'll! <33


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